


Wibbly Wobbly, Timey Wimey Portkey

by DwaejiTokki



Category: Doctor Who, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, dimensional rifts, just for fun, read prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7880920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DwaejiTokki/pseuds/DwaejiTokki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt: “The spell Crouch Jr. put on the Triwizard Cup goes wrong for whatever reason, and instead of the graveyard in Little Hangleton, Harry and Cedric find themselves in a different time and/or dimension.” Let’s ignore the fact that the Doctor has read the Harry Potter books.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wibbly Wobbly, Timey Wimey Portkey

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [thedra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedra/pseuds/thedra) in the [HPprompts](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HPprompts) collection. 



“I didn’t know it was a Portkey,” Cedric said, brow furrowed in confusion. “Did you?”

            “No,” Harry answered.

            Both teens tightened their grips on their wands and stood from the pavement on which they had landed hard. The Triwizard Cup lay between them, momentarily forgotten as they studied their surroundings: it was a dark little alley in a city; rubbish clung to the corners of the blind end where the wind had blown them; dumpsters overflowing with garbage, most of which seemed to have spilled out of torn black bags, lined the walls on either side of them.

            “Where are we?” Cedric asked, looking nervous. He was torn between keeping his wand out and putting it away, in case of an unsuspecting Muggle happening upon them.

            Harry merely shook his head. His scar tingled, but it wasn’t the sharp pain he associated with Voldemort’s presence (not that Voldemort’s doing was excluded; it was quite the opposite). But if it were somehow part of Voldemort’s plan to transport the champion to a dingy little alley in some city who knows where, Harry saw no sense in it.

            “Maybe,” Cedric shifted from foot to foot, looking around warily. “Maybe if we touch the Portkey again?”

            The younger wizard sincerely doubted it were that simple, but he nodded. There was nothing else to do, really. So together, on the Hufflepuff boy’s count, they grasped a handle of the cup. Nothing happened except that they both felt disappointed and embarrassed.

            Frustrated, they stepped back, and looked towards the opening of the alley. So far as they could see, there was a dark street beyond it. The unknown.

            Cedric pointed his wand straight up and shot a stream of red sparks into the air. Harry tensed nearly as much as Cedric did—it was certainly a last resort. But no one came for them. A dog yapped in the distance, setting off another dog to howling.

            There was nothing for it. They would have to leave the alley and face what was coming. Obviously something had gone wrong, and they weren’t going to help by just standing around. As they stepped out together, Cedric carrying the Triwizard Cup, Harry’s green eyes darted in every direction. The back street appeared to be abandoned. There weren’t even any streetlamps to light the area. Litter and grime caked the sidewalk and pavement. A single car was parked near a rusted door, but even that looked totally abandoned.

            “Over here!” Cedric gasped out, hurrying away.

            Harry whipped around to see that Cedric was heading for a tall box that loomed in the darkness. He couldn’t see it clearly, but he supposed it was a telephone box. “Cedric!” he hissed, running after him.

            “We can get to the Ministry, I think,” he responded, voice low and humming with relief. “Dad used one of these telly-phony boxes once. It’s a visitor’s entrance.”

            For a moment Harry had also felt quite relieved, but then as they neared he saw that it wasn’t a telephone booth at all, but a severely-outdated Police Box. And it was locked, besides, as they discovered when Cedric tried to force it open.

            “ _Alohomora_ ,” Cedric whispered, pointing his wand at the small lock.

            With a tiny click that was nearly lost in the silence, the door swung open to reveal a very spacious room. Obviously wizardry at work.

            “Brilliant, Cedric,” Harry grinned. “Well done!”

            Cedric’s smile was a bit strained in return, but it had been a stressful moment. He shouldered inside, wand still in one hand and cup in the other. “Hello? Sorry, is anyone here?”

            There was no answer.

            Feeling prickly all over, Harry pulled the door shut behind them.

            “I don’t understand,” Cedric said, looking lost. “This isn’t the Ministry.”

            “Maybe we have to pass through here,” Harry suggested. “What’s this up here?”

            Still moving together (for protection, you see, because neither was _afraid_ ), the boys crossed the circular room, the walls of which were covered in strange knobby things and had metal arches to support the rounded ceiling. In the center of it all was a raised platform, where a great glowing humming _thing_ was. This _thing_ must be some sort of communication device, and though it looked to run on the Muggle necessity of electricity, Harry knew it must be powered by magic. It was the only thing that made sense.

            He was dismayed to see an alarmingly obnoxious amount of buttons and pulleys and levers, none of them labeled. What if he pushed the wrong one? One could release Cornish Pixies, or open a door to reveal Voldemort, or just zap him dead. A discreet glance up showed that he wasn’t the only one thinking such thoughts.

            “Hello,” said a sudden voice.

            The boys whipped around and held up their wands threateningly, but the man standing in the door from which they had entered merely regarded them curiously, brown eyes peering intently at them through a pair of black spectacles. He wore a brown tweed suit and an overcoat.

            “How…How did you get in here? Are there more of you?” He stood on his toes and tilted to one side so as to look past them. “What’s that you’re pointing at me? Oh, and _who_ exactly are you?”

            Harry decided that the man, for the moment at least, was no threat. Cedric only white-knuckled his wand and bared his teeth.

            “I know who you are!” he growled.

            The stranger appeared taken aback at this, even squinted at him. “Sorry, you must know me in the future. _Well_ , past you must know future me. Or something. It’s all quite confusing.”

            “You’re Barty Crouch, Jr.,” Cedric said, never losing that angry look he sported. Just for the way Cedric held himself, ready for battle, Harry raised his wand again.

            “Hmm,” the man made a face, pursing his lips, “nope, try again. I’m the Doctor. And you are?”

            “I’ve seen your face in the old newspaper clippings!” Cedric practically shouted. “You’re a murderer! A Death Eater!”

            “I’ll have you know,” the man who was supposedly Barty Crouch, Jr. (or the Doctor, as he’d called himself) held up a hand, “that I am a vegetarian.”

            “How did you escape from Azkaban?” Cedric demanded, ignoring him. “Why hasn’t your father been judging the last tournaments?”

            A queer look was given. “Azkaban? Azkaban, Azkaban, Azkaban…Is my translator faulty again? What on earth is Azkaban?”

            Cedric was slowly purpling in the face, and it seemed as though he had finally reached a breaking point. “ _Stupefy!_ ”

            Nearly defying the laws of physics, the stranger leapt out of the way and rolled back to his feet, eyes wide. Cedric followed his movement, repeating the spell once more and jetting a burst of red light toward him. The man jumped aside once more, pulling something from his own pocket. The teens froze warily.

            The device in his hand was not a wand, not one like Harry had ever seen. It made a strange noise as the end of it lit up blue, and it appeared to do absolutely nothing. Despite this, the man seemed satisfied.

            “There now,” he said. “I’ve reversed the polarity in your devices, whatever they are, so they won’t work.”

            Cedric looked confunded, and Harry glanced at the wand in his own hand. It was worth a try, at least. He raised it and aimed, saying concisely, “ _Expelliarmus_!”

            The silver thing in the Doctor’s hand was wrenched from his grip, and it skidded and clattered toward the other end of the room. The man looked absolutely thunderstruck. With his wand still raised threateningly, Harry slowly approached him.

            “Where are we?” Harry demanded. “What is this place?”

            “This?” he gestured to the whole of the room. “My TARDIS. I’m a Time Lord. My name’s the Doctor. What’s yours?”

            “TARDIS?”

            “Time And Relative Dimensions In Space,” the Doctor said matter-of-factly. “It’s bigger on the inside.”

            “We rather noticed,” Harry said dryly. “We know how an expansion spell works.”

            “Expansion spell?”

            By this time Cedric seemed to have gathered his wits, and he rejoined Harry.

            The Doctor looked curiously between the two, apparently at a loss to explain them. “Where are you from?” he murmured, almost to himself.

            “You know very well where we’re from,” Cedric spat. “We should be the ones asking the questions, Crouch. How did you manage to turn this into a Portkey?” He shook the Triwizard Cup at the man, who reached up and took it to examine it.

            The crystal goblet had three handles in the shape of long-bodied, open-mouthed dragons. Another metalwork dragon twined around the stem of the Cup, its mouth parted slightly at the base. Engraved on three of the faces of the crystal were nine letters, paired in threes:

T R I - W I Z - A R D

It was very fine, indeed. But completely flabbergasting.

            “Triwizard,” the Doctor whispered, concentrating hard. “Triwizard…Azkaban…Barty Crouch, Jr…Are you _sure_ you’ve got the right person?”

            “Don’t play dumb,” Cedric snapped.

            “I never play dumb,” the Doctor said seriously. “I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re both going on about. Why don’t we all just sit down—without our little sparky sticks—and have a nice chat over a cup of tea, hmm? _Well_ , it’s not really tea so much as it is a blend of Tartamellan herbs steeped in mineral water, but close enough.”

            Harry and Cedric exchanged yet another look.

            “You’ve gone mad,” Cedric said. “The Dementors have made you mad.”

            “But he doesn’t look like he’s been around Dementors lately, if you ask me,” Harry said, taking in the vibrant and cleanly appearance of the man before him.

            “But—well,” Cedric stuttered, at a loss.

            The Doctor looked between them. “Right then, how about that tea?”

[Several minutes later.]

            “I’m a time traveler,” the Doctor said simply, sipping his steaming cuppa.

            The Triwizard Cup sat on the floor between them, the unspoken barrier.

            Harry suddenly flashed back to the previous year, something Hermione had told him: “ _Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time, Harry_.”

            Indeed, he thought grimly. He wondered whether he and Cedric had been transported to another time and place—possibly the past, considering that Barty Crouch, Jr. was looking so well. Or it was possible that this Barty—the one that called himself Doctor, for some reason—was from the past, and had traveled forward in time.

            He pretended to take another sip of his strange-looking tea, hoping that Cedric had the sense not to drink it. For all they knew, it was poisoned, or laced with veritaserum.

            “How did you get into Hogwarts?” Cedric demanded, his tea untouched.

            The Doctor regarded him with slightly narrowed eyes for a long moment. “You’re not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you? Haven’t we just established that I’ve no idea what you’re talking about?”

            Cedric scowled.

            “Right,” he said. “Now, again: I’m the Doctor. And you are?”

            Harry raised an eyebrow, then reached up and pushed his hair back from his forehead, displaying his scar.

            The Doctor examined it. “Brilliant,” he said. “Shall I call you Scarface?”

            “My name,” Harry sighed, “is Harry Potter.”

            “Pleasure. And you?”

            “Cedric Diggory.”

            “There, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The Doctor tossed his head back and drank the last of his cuppa, and gave a satisfied sigh. “It’s not poisoned, you know. You’re both the most distrustful lads I’ve ever met. Well, aside from George III.”

            “Yes, well,” Harry said drily, “when you’re suddenly transported from one place to another unexpectedly and find yourself in bad company, it’s a bit of a drastic change.”

            “I agree completely,” the Doctor said. “Happens to me quite a lot. You can’t imagine all the trouble I’ve gone through.” He stood up and went to the center console. “Let’s see if we can’t get you back home, then!”

            Harry and Cedric stared at him as he ran about pulling levers and pressing buttons and hitting things with hammers. The Doctor grasped a red knob, then paused and looked back at them with a queer expression.

            “Where exactly _are_ you from?”

            “Hogwarts,” Cedric said firmly.

            The Doctor stared blankly.

            Harry sighed again, having decided to play along with him, if he was going to continue to pretend not to be Crouch. “It’s in the Scottish Highlands. The Muggles see it as a dilapidated castle.”

            “Ooh, dilapidated,” the Doctor said, nodding as he entered a location into the machine. “And um, _when_ exactly are you from?”

            “1995?”

            “Ah. Allons-y!”

            The Doctor yanked the knob hard, and a horrible screeching rent the air. Cedric and Harry looked around in alarm, ducking as the center nodule began to light up and mechanisms began to whir and move.

            “What’s happening?” Cedric bellowed, completely unused to electricity in any form.

            “I don’t know!” cried Harry, who had never seen anything quite like this.

            The Doctor was clutching the railing. “Brace yourselves!” he said, grinning madly, just as the TARDIS lurched violently.

            The boys stuck their fingers through the mesh wiring-like floor and held on for dear life as the vehicle spun and spun, occasionally knocked back and forth as though striking something outside. All the while, the TARDIS made those ear-grating noises.

            It was nearly as unpleasant as touching a Portkey.

            At last it ceased.

            “By the way,” the Doctor said, frowning. “What _is_ a Muggle?”

            Harry pushed himself up on wobbly arms, feeling as though he’d traveled a hundred miles by Floo powder. “Er, a non-magic person,” he said, too queasy to argue that he should already _know_ what a Muggle was, being a wizard himself.

            “Non- _magic_?”

            The Doctor appeared absolutely perplexed, but he seemed to momentarily shrug it off as he skipped over to the door and flung it wide open. “Must have been on another rift of some sort. Why are there so many rifts in England?…Ah, hello! Welcome to…not the Scottish Highlands!”

            He leaned far out of the door, head and torso disappearing for a moment. Then he popped back in, looking confused, and ran to the control panel. Harry and Cedric had at last managed to warily test their legs.

            “Where are we?” the Doctor murmured, frowning at a screen and fiddling with the controls. “Where, where?”

            Cedric glanced out of the door. “Are we in Knockturn Alley?”

            “Nocturnally?” the Doctor repeated absently. “No, I’m not quite that. I sleep at night, when I can. Ah, here’s the problem, I think! Don’t worry, I know precisely how to fix it.”

            Harry looked out the door. Indeed, the sooty, narrow alleys with its dark buildings was out there. “We can get to Diagon Alley from here, and someone will help us.”

            “I thought they’d all be at the Triwizard Tournament.”

            “Maybe so, Cedric, but it’s our best chance. We could make a run for it, while he’s distracted.”

            “Right. On three, then?”

            Harry nodded. “One.”

            “Two.”

            Together: “Three!”

            They made a mad dash for the door and sprinted out, feet pounding as they raced down the corridor. Neither glanced back to see if the Doctor had noticed, but there was no shouting or footsteps behind them to indicate a chase.

            The boys made several twists and turns to make sure that they weren’t easily found before finally halting to catch their breaths.

            “How are we going to get back to Hogwarts?” Cedric asked once he’d caught his.

            “There must be some Floo powder around here.”

            “Right.”

            Harry pulled out his wand and flicked it toward the nearest door. “ _Alohomora_!” he said. The teens pushed inside the dusty building, quickly shutting the door behind them. “ _Colloportus_.” The door locked, but they weren’t sure how much good it would do, especially if Crouch followed them and had his own wand.

            “Quick,” Cedric said. “I think there’s some over here.”

            They hurried over to the other side of the room to the fireplace, and checked the mantelpiece for Floo powder. And there it was!

            Cedric pulled the lid off, releasing a tiny plume of the green dust. He thrust his fingers inside, then hesitated. “Which fireplace will you step out of, Harry? We should go through the same one.”

            “I’m going straight to Dumbledore,” Harry said decisively. He was sure that even if the headmaster weren’t in his office, Fawkes the Phoenix could alert him as soon as possible.

            “Right,” the Hufflepuff nodded. “Sounds good.”

            He took his pinch and passed it over, stepping over the grating as Harry hurriedly grabbed a fistful. “Albus Dumbledore’s office!”

            Cedric disappeared in a flare of green light, and Harry took his place.

            As he raised his hand and prepared to speak clearly, his heart leapt into his throat—the door was swinging open.

            “Hello?” called the Doctor, poking his head in and sweeping the room with his gaze.

            Their eyes met.

            “Albus Dumbledore’s office!” Harry whispered fiercely, hoping the wizard wouldn’t hear.

            Suddenly he was spinning very fast. His elbow painfully struck a brick edge before he remembered to tuck his arms in, wincing. He managed to keep his eyes open to watch for his destination—it wouldn’t do to overshoot.

            As soon as he spotted Cedric standing in a familiar office, Harry stepped out.

            “He’s right behind me, I think!” Harry blurted. He turned to the wall behind the desk, which was covered with the usual trinkets, then looked over at Fawkes’ perch. All of the portraits were empty, and Fawkes was gone.

            “We can’t stay,” Cedric said then. He glanced out the window, but it did not overlook the stadium where the final challenge was taking place. “We’ve got to find the headmaster.”

            “This way,” said the Gryffindor, hurrying toward the door.

            Just as they reached it, though, a loud _fwump!_ followed by a hacking cough made their blood run cold in their veins. The Doctor had fallen out of the fireplace, dizzied and covered in soot, hair in disarray and spectacles askew.

            “What was _that_?!” he choked, sprawled on Dumbledore’s plush carpet.

            “Run!” Harry shouted, flinging the door open.

            Cedric wasted no time, flying down the spiral staircase as fast as he dared, with Harry at his heels.

            A second later, the Doctor was chasing after them, looking over his shoulder as though trying to catch sight of a pursuer. “Where are we going?” he shouted.

            “He’s gaining on us!” Cedric gasped, chancing a glace back.

            “Who?!” the Doctor asked, slightly panicked and out of depth.

            They sped past the griffin door that guarded Dumbledore’s office and raced down the hallway, passing scores of empty portraits. Their pounding feet echoed disconcertingly about them.

            “In here!”

            Cedric and Harry ran into the nearest classroom and slammed the door shut, locking it behind them though they knew it likely wouldn’t do any good. They would have to go out the window as fast as they could before Crouch Jr. managed to find his way in.

            “ _Ohhhh!_ ” he said, voice muffled. “ _I see! You’re running from_ me _. Do you still think I’m that Bart fellow? Really?_ ”

            “He’s mad!” Cedric panted, pushing out the nearest window.

            “We’ll have to circle around the castle from here to get the Quidditch pitch,” Harry whispered. “Quickly, now, Cedric!”

            “I’m trying, Harry. Hold your bowtruckles, will you?”

            He clambered out, again followed by Harry. The classroom door remained shut, as though the man on the other side had decided to move on from them, or else was waiting them out. Or he was still trying to convince the boys that he was not a Death Eater.

            They hurried out, their breaths coming in short bursts as they sprinted across the grass. They had to get to Dumbledore.

            But as they rounded the castle corner, Harry and Cedric stopped short, utterly confused.

            “Where is everyone?” Cedric asked.

            Harry shook his head, having no answer.

            The Quidditch pitch, where just earlier there had been a great maze and a huge crowd, was back to normal, if not a little overgrown. It was as though the Triwizard Tournament had never taken place.

            And the grounds, like the castle, was empty.

            Except—

            “Look!” Harry pointed to the familiar cabin near the tree line of the Forbidden Forest. A thin line of white smoke trailed up from the chimney. “Hagrid’s home, at least.”

            Cedric glanced back to check that Crouch Jr. hadn’t found them. “Let’s go, then.”

            They went on, marveling at the silence. Neither could remember Hogwarts ever being so quiet.

            The boys reached the hut in record time, and jumped up the steps. Harry pounded at the door. “Hagrid! Hagrid, are you home? Hurry, open up!”

            Ferocious barking answered them, but it was quieted by Hagrid’s gruff, “Tha’s enough, now, Fang! Heel!”

            The door crashed open, and a surly face glared down at them.

            “What d’ya think yer doin’ here, ya trespassin’ mon—“ he stopped short, black eyes blinking rapidly as he suddenly realized who he was speaking to. “Why, it can’t be!”

            “Can’t be?” Harry repeated. “Hagrid, what’s going on? Where is everyone? We must see Dumbledore immediately!”

            But Hagrid didn’t seem to hear him. “It can’t be,” he said. “I must be dreamin’, Fang!”

            Fang ambled forth curiously, snuffling. But he recognized Harry, at least, and gave a joyous bark before jumping up and slobbering all over the teen.

            “Hagrid!” Cedric said. “Snap out of it, Hagrid! We need your help.”

            The half-giant suddenly let out a bawl, fat tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and trailing into his bushy beard. The teens winced at the sound and looked about, hoping Crouch Jr. hadn’t heard it. “Yer alive, the both’a ya!”

            Then he stooped and grabbed both of the boys round their middles, lifting them into a great hug. Hagrid bawled, and Fang howled with him.

            “Hagrid!” Harry grunted desperately. “Can’t breathe!”

            “Sorry, sorry,” the groundskeeper said, setting them down again. “Come in, come in! I’ll give you boys a treat. It’s the least I can do, now that I know yer alive!”

            “What _are_ you talking about?” Cedric asked.

            Hagrid set two large teacups in front of them as they took a seat at his table. He wiped his eyes with a handkerchief, sniffing loudly, before responding. “Well, we all thought you were dead! You never came out, never shot up sparks, nothing. Even Professor Dumbledore couldn’t find either o’ you.”

            “You mean…the maze?” Harry asked, bewildered.

            “O’ course, o’ course the maze!” Hagrid said. “Where have you two been all this time? Worryin’ all your professors sick! Runnin’ the Ministry ragged tryin’ to find you! Gettin’ Hogwarts shut down!”

            “Shut down?” they cried in unison, alarmed.

            “Where’s Dumbledore, Hagrid?” Harry asked urgently.

            “Lookin’ fer you, o’ course!” he snorted, as though it were obvious.

            “Hagrid,” Cedric said tentatively. “How long has it been? Have we been gone, that is?”

            Hagrid grumbled calculations into his beard, eyebrows knit together. “Nigh on…two years, now. Aye, two years, Mr. Diggory!”

            Harry and Cedric both paled as the information sank in. They looked at each other, confused.

            “But it’s only been a few hours, Harry,” Cedric whispered.

            “It must’ve been Crouch,” he said. “That machine he has—it must have some kind of Time-Turner in it.”

            “A Time-Turner?”

            “Yes, it’s—well, a device that can turn back time, you see. We’re not actually supposed to know about that sort of thing, only—well, it’s a long story.”

            “A long story?” Hagrid interrupted. “I should think so, seeing as ye’ve been gone two years!”

            “Hagrid,” Cedric said, “is there any way at all you can contact Professor Dumbledore? Or Professor McGonagall? Oh, and I should let my da know I’m all right, too…Two years!”

            “Well,” he said slowly, “I don’t know exactly where Professor Dumbledore is. I only get a delivery owl from him ‘bout once a month or so. But Professor McGonagall still lives in the castle up there. ‘Though, ‘tween you an’ me,” he lowered his voice and leaned toward the boys, who moved in eagerly, “the loss o’ you two really hit ‘er hard. These days she’s at the Three Broomsticks more than not.”

            Harry started. He’d not imagined Professor McGonagall could ever let herself go like that. “Thanks, Hagrid,” he said hurriedly. “We’d better get a move on, Cedric.”

            “Right.”

            Their chairs scraped back noisily as they got up and went to the door.

            “Hold on, now!” Hagrid protested. “Where’re you goin’?”

            “To see Professor McGona—oh,” Harry said, shutting the door again. “It’s him again.”

            “What? How’d he find us?” Cedric moaned.

            “Who?” the half-giant asked, sticking his head out of the window. “Who’s that bloke o’er there? Hello, there!” he bellowed.

            “Hagrid, no!” Harry hissed, tugging him back inside. “Hagrid, that’s Barty Crouch Jr.!”

            “Jr.?!” he boggled. “Tha’s impossible! Crouch Jr.’s dead, o’ course. It was in the Daily, it was.”

            A gruesome image of Rita Skeeter sucking her peacock feather quill flashed into his mind, and Harry shuddered. “Well, he’s not,” he insisted, “because that’s him!”

            “Nonsense,” Hagrid said cajolingly as a knock came at the door.

            Harry had never wished harder for his invisibility cloak than when Hagrid moved to open the door.

            “Who’re you?” Hagrid asked gruffly, only opening the door a crack. For all his insistence that the wizard wasn’t Crouch, he was still cautious.

            “Hel- _lo!_ ” the Doctor responded with surprise, discovering Hagrid’s size. Then he recovered, clearing his throat. “Yes, hello, I’m looking for two young men. They seem to think that I’m an eater of death, and I’m trying to convince them otherwise. Have you seen them?”

            Hagrid very nondescriptly glanced back at them. Harry groaned inwardly.

            “How do I know yer _not_ a Death Eater, hm?”

            “Simple! I don’t know exactly what that is.”

            “Don’t know?! What d’ya mean ‘don’t know’? Everyone knows about You-Know-Who’s followers!”

            “Who?”

            “Blimey!” Hagrid turned and gave the Hogwarts students and incredulous look. “Where’d ya find this guy, Harry?”

            “Actually,” the Doctor interjected, holding up a finger, “funny story, that. They broke into my TARDIS.”

            “Breakin’ an’ enterin’!?” Hagrid exclaimed, his bushy eyebrows trembling. “Tha’s what ye’ve been doin’ fer the las’ two years?”

            Before either of the boys could respond, the Doctor spoke again to Hagrid. “You seem like a reasonable person. Do you think you could perhaps tell me when we are?”

            “Let’s see…It’s nearly April now. March 27th. Beautiful day, innit?”

            “Yes, quite!” the Doctor agreed. “But I rather meant the year, if you please.”

            “1997.”

            He groaned. “Two years off! All right. Come along, Harry and Cedric. Just a little tweak and we’ll have you back to the right time.”

            “We’re not going anywhere with you!” Cedric said accusatorily.

            “Yeah, tha’s right,” Hagrid said. “They’ll not be goin’ anywhere with ye. I don’t even know who y’are!”

            “I’m the Doctor. Perhaps this will convince you of my trustworthiness,” he said, digging into his coat pocket. He pulled out a flap of paper and handed it over.

            “Blimey!” Hagrid exclaimed, impressed. “Well, I had no idea, Sir, none at all! Please, come right in, tha’s it. Would ye like a cuppa?”

            “A cuppa sounds lovely,” the Doctor said politely, “but I’m afraid I simply haven’t got the time. Speaking of time, these boys are in the wrong one, and I should like to get them back where they belong as soon as possible.”

            “O’ course, o’ course,” Hagrid nodded. “But if it’s all the same, perhaps we ought to let one o’ the professors know that they’re all right now.”

            “Hagrid,” Harry said slowly. “Whoever he’s said he is, he’s not!”

            “He’s an Auror, Harry. He knows what he’s doin’!”

            “An Auror!” the students exclaimed in disbelief.

            “Hagrid!” Harry said again. “You can’t believe him over me, can you?”

            “He’s a Death Eater!” Cedric cried. “Check his arm! Go on, then. He must have a Dark Mark.”

            “Right!” Harry agreed. “And he hasn’t even got a wand. Or if it is, it’s like no wand I’ve ever seen!”

            The Doctor looked despairingly at them. “I’ve never had so much trouble getting children to trust me,” he said. “What does that say about me?”

            Hagrid blew out a sigh. “Well, all right, then. Doctor Auror, Sir, if it please ye, d’you think perhaps ye could show us yer arm? Jus’ to prove yer not a Death Eater.”

            “Certainly.” The Doctor compliantly pushed up both sleeves and turned his arms over, revealing flawless skin.

            “There!” Hagrid nodded, well chuffed. “Not a trace o’ the Dark Mark on ‘im!”

            “Then this is Crouch _before_ he joined up with You-Know-Who,” Cedric insisted.

            “Who?” the Doctor inquired again.

            “Well,” Hagrid grumbled into his beard. “Ye all say tha’ yer in the wrong time, righ’? An’ ye boys won’ go with him so ‘e can set it righ’ because ye don’ trust ‘im.”

            “Right,” Harry nodded. “Because he’s Barty Crouch, Jr.”

            “Then tha’ settles it,” the half-giant said. “Th’ only thing tha’ makes sense is fer me to go with ye!”

            “No!”

            “We shouldn’t go with him at all,” Cedric groaned.

            “Now, now,” Hagrid said, waving his hands at the students as he turned to the Doctor. “Is it possible, Doctor Auror, Sir? Can I come with ye while ye drop them off in the righ’ place, and then ye bring me back ‘ere? No harm, no foul, righ’?”

            “That just might work,” the Doctor nodded. “Brilliant!”

            Harry and Cedric shared a glance.

            “How else are we going to get back, Harry?” Cedric worried. “And we can’t just let Hagrid go alone. He besotted, isn’t he?”

            “Yeah,” Harry agreed, frowning. “I guess all we can do is keep an eye on him. If he tries anything funny, we can Stupefy him. Take him by surprise.”

            “I hope so,” Cedric said doubtfully. “I just hope I see my dad again soon…Two years!”

            “Not for us,” Harry shook his head. “It’s only been a few hours few us. But I suppose we’ve got no other choice for now.”

            “Right,” the Hufflepuff nodded.

            “All right,” Harry raised his voice so that it carried to the men standing in the doorway. “We’ll go. It’s the only way to get back, isn’t it?”

            “Great!” the Doctor cried. “Allons-y!” He turned on his heel and began to stride back towards the castle, presumably to the fireplace in Dumbledore’s office, so that they could use the Floo network to get back to Knockturn Alley, and from there to the TARDIS.

            “Wait,” Harry called. “Hagrid, have you got any Floo powder?”

[Several minutes later.]

            Harry and Cedric both grasped the recovered Triwizard Cup, then stepped out into the hedge maze. The sky was still dark, and the clouds looked to threaten rain. The Doctor stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he watched the boys go. Hagrid stood behind him, dabbing at his eyes with a large spotted handkerchief.

            The Hogwarts students turned back, looking slightly awkward.

            “Well,” Cedric cleared his throat. “I suppose I was wrong about you, uh, Doctor.”

            “Many people are,” the Doctor said, smirking. “Water under the bridge, fellows. Enjoy your fame.”

            They all shared a grin.

            Then Harry and Cedric both raised their wands and shot up green sparks.

            The Doctor shut the door and went to the center console. It was time to leave.

            “So, Hagrid,” he said. “Where shall we go?”

            “I suppose back to my time,” Hagrid shrugged. “Tha’ was the plan, anyhow.”

            “It was, wasn’t it. But, if you could choose a place in all of time and space…where would you go?”

            Hagrid looked taken aback. “Well,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to see the land when giants roamed free an’ all.”

            The Doctor’s eyes shined. “Giants, eh? Well, I know of one place we could find them…To the Valley of Elah!”

            He pulled the lever, and the TARDIS grinded and groaned to life.

 

End.


End file.
